


Fire Emblem: The Blinding Edge

by Adrassil



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuuin no Tsurugi | Fire Emblem: Binding Blade
Genre: Archer - Freeform, Elibe, F/M, Fighter, Lycia - Freeform, Myrmidon, Paladin, Pharae
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2018-08-20 14:36:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8252719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adrassil/pseuds/Adrassil
Summary: Set a year after Fire Emblem: Blazing Sword. The continent of Elibe again is at peace. Law and order is finally re-established in Pherae a territory in east Lycia. But when the town of Sakeren is attacked by strange band of brigands, as well as every other town for miles around.





	1. Chapter 1

Azalun's sword sliced, snaking out quicker than a whip. But still Golguan's spear stopped it short like it was the easiest act on the continent.

"Is that all you have, boy?" said the old paladin, a smirk creasing his scarred, wrinkled face. "You are making me believe all the months I have used up training you are wasted.

Azalun let out a roar and drew back his blade into a downward vertical cut, which Golguan blocked again.

Golguan smirk grew into a grin, then swung out the spear's butt for Azalun's skull.

The young Myrmidon slid back, barely making it outside the spear's arc. Azalun went to dart into a thrust but was forced to block Golguan's thrust for his face.

Golguan laughed and launched into a flurry of stabs.

Azalun's teeth clenched and his eyes widened as he dodged and darted. He parried and blocked those that came to close while he weathered through them.

"Go Azalun!" yelled a melodic, high pitched voice from the sidelines. A voice Azalun knew belonged to Caralin.

Her words caused Azalun to smile and a wave of confidence to coat him, so he smashed aside a thrust, then back-swung into a horizontal slash for Golguan's skull.

But Golguan blocked Azalun's wooden practise blade with his armoured palm, and before Azalun could slip it back, closed his fingers around it.

"Nice try, boy," said the paladin, then he kicked Azalun in the chest, sending Azalun stumbling back, then smashing against the fence, blasting the wind from his lungs and pain through his back and chest. "But must've seen that attack tried hundreds of times."

Gasping, Azalun slid to sit his arse into the mud.

Caralin's slender, soft hand grasped his shoulder through the fence. "Next time, Azalun," she said in his ear.

"No it won't," said Golguan, his armoured boots squelched in the mud as he approached. "He's still got a long way to go."

"Of course I do," said Azalun, looking up at Golguan.

Golguan looked down at Azalun, his face grim, then he grinned again as he held out his hand for Azalun.

"Don't beat yourself up too much, boy. You are still young, got a lot to learn. I've been at this a long time before you were even born."

Azalun took Golguan's hand and the paladin hauled the young Myrmidon to his feet, like Azalun was made out of straw.

"I'll give you this, boy," said Golguan, clapping Azalun on the shoulder. "You're damned quick."

Azalun felt a smile spread.

"That's enough for tonight, methinks," said Golguan. "You three better get homeward."

Azalun nodded, turned and opened the gate, then stepped out onto the grass, starting for home. as he did Caralin and Tobijorn fell in step with him. Caralin on his left, Tobijorn his right. It was early evening and a clear, amazing cloudless sky where the stars shone so bright they dominated the dark. Their slight light coated the grassy hills and buildings which made up the town of Sakeren in white. As well as the sea which over threw the horizon in the far west. To their backs the eastern mountains towered over them and everything else. The huge mountain range which bordered the countries of Lycia and Bern.

"Can't believe you tried to fight the teacher again," said Tobijorn. "How many times is it now, bud?"

Tobijorn was only a year older than Azalun but towered over him, but the young axe man towered over almost everyone, as almost everyone seemed to tower over Azalun. His arms were almost as thick as Azalun's torso. Unlike Azalun, who apparently looked five years younger Tobijorn, looked like he was ten years older than his twenty years. Also unlike Azalun his orange hair was short and messy, while Azalun's black hair was long and tied into a neat high ponytail. Where Tobijorn's skin was brown from his days spent working the fields but Azalun was pale, for he spent most of his days inside, in study. Tobijorn's face looked like it'd been carved from rock and he was in the midst of growing a beard, which wasn't too bad in Azalun's opinion.

Azalun sighed and shrugged. "I don't know." He knew, but was too embarrassed to say.

"Twenty seven times, now," said Caralin.

Azalun frowned and turned to her. He found she was smiling at him and seeing her smiling, chased away his frown, making it morph into a lopsided smile. Caralin's features were both sharp and soft. Her face and mannerisms somehow ran the whole gamut between beautiful and cute depending on the lighting or angle. Now she was beautiful. Her large green-grey eyes seemed attached to his. Her through a fringe of red and gold hair, which fell past her shoulders which covered her left eye. Her full, red lips reminded Azalun of someone, who he couldn't begin to recall. They were like pillows, they seemed the softest, nicest things on the continent of Elibe. Just like Caralin. Her skin was almost as pale as Azalun's. She was the daughter of the town's administrator, sent by the government of their territory, Pharae to see over the collection of taxes. Thus, her family weren't the most popular in town. But Azalun didn't care, neither did his father and neither did Golguan and Tobijorn. Her father was just doing his job and Caralin was too kind and sweet not to like. Caralin carried her bow and quiver at her hip, she was a beyond brilliant archer. She was slightly shorter than Azalun and just as slender as him. Both if them had to rely on speed and agility and skill more than strength and weight than the huge Tobijorn.

"How long did I manage to last, Caralin?" said Azalun, she was learning accounting from her father and like him had a great head for numbers.

"Uhh, about thirty two seconds," said Caralin, tapping her thin chin.

Azalun's smile widened. "That's three seconds longer than my last try!"

"I don't know why you even bother," said Tobijorn, pouting his thin dry lips. "You'll never beat him. He was knight of Bern for gods' sake."

"I know," said Azalun. "But it's a good way to measure my progress. Every new second I last means I'm getting better."

"Y'know he's going easy on you, right?" said Tobijorn. "Or else it'd be over in a second."

Azalun's smile was chased away by another frown. "Of course I know that, Tobijorn. But I enjoy the challenge."

He grinned. "Unlike the challenge I get from you, which is no challenge at all."

Tobijorn pouted again and Caralin laughed her musical, lilting laugh. They'd sparred eighty one times now. Azalun had won sixty seven of them and they'd five draws. Although each fight was hard won, so Azalun was exaggerating. Tobijorn had strength, size and reach over Azalun, but Azalun was so quick and skilled that he was mostly always able to get in close enough to negate Tobijorn's advantages.

"Anyway," said Azalun. "One day I might be good enough to beat him."

"Yeah, maybe in a hundred years," said Tobijorn. "I still think it's just alotta pain and bruises for nothin'"

Azalun and his instinct made him touch his chest. He hissed at the stinging pain which erupted from the bruise.

"Hey Tobijorn," said Caralin. "Why don't you give a try. I bet you won't even last half as long as Azalun."

"Oh no," said Tobijorn. "I know I'll last fifty times as long as Azalun, but I'll still get my arse beat-"

"Well," said Azalun. "You are an axe wielder so you'd have a very slight advantage against him. Although, I do doubt it'd make much of a difference and assuming he uses his spear."

"Mm hm!" said Caralin with an animated nod.

"But, but," said on Tobijorn. "Unlike Mr apprentice teacher here I ain't got my head in the books all day. I've gotta keep from getting beat so I can work."

Azalun and Caralin exchanged a look, they had to admit Tobijorn had a good point.

"Well you have to try once," said Caralin. "Actions speak louder than words, you know."

Tobijorn pouted again and said nothing.

It was then they found the fork in the road, the right lead north and left leading south.

"This is it," said Tobijorn, as he peeled off, he and Caralin lived with their parents in the north, while Azalun lived with his father in the southern most house. "We'll see ya for training tomorrow, Azalun. Let's go, Caralin."

But Caralin didn't follow Tobijorn, instead she paused, causing Azalun to stop too and gazed into his eyes. She did it with a furrowed brow and for so long Azalun couldn't help feel his cheeks heat and to shuffle his foot.

"Your eyes," she said. "I've always found them weird."

"Uhh thanks?" said Azalun with a raised eyebrow.

"I don't mean it an insult, Azalun," she said flinching back while waving her hands. "It's just...It's just-"

"It's just, what?"

"I don't know, it's just I swear that your eyes, they sometimes-"

"You comin' or what, Caralin?" called Tobijorn, who'd stopped a few metres down the road.

"I will be with you in a second!" Caralin said over her shoulder before looking back to Azalun. "It's just...I swear that at times your eyes...they glow gold."

"They...they do?" said Azalun, scratching his jaw.

"Mmm hmm!" said Caralin with a rapid nod, her pale face bright red. "Well. Uhh I've gotta go. See you around, Azalun."

"Yeah see you," said Azalun, watching Caralin turn to follow Tobijorn and he couldn't help his gaze as it fell to her very nice bum while it waggled away.

When she and Tobijorn disappeared down the hill, the spell of Caralin's bum was broken and he was over taken with confusion.

"My eyes can be gold?" he said, then he turned south and started down the road. "Hmm, strange."

No one had ever mentioned it before. Not even his dad.

The thought of his dad, made Azalun sigh. "Time for another lecture, I suppose."

* * *

 

"Dad," said Azalun as he stepped through the door. He was forced to weave through a few piles of books covering the floor before sitting at the big wooden table in the dining room. "I'm home."

His father's face popped out from the kitchen, his wrinkled face knotted in stern disapproval. Just like Golguan his father's tanned, weather beaten face was coated in scars, which Azalun never understood as he was a teacher, not a fighter. "Hurt yourself much, tonight?"

Azalun shrugged. "Not much more than normal. What's for dinner?"

His father's head disappeared. "You can find out yourself if you're good enough to help me cook, tonight."

Azalun grinned. "Oh no! Actually it seems like Tobijorn hit my arm with his wooden practise axe! It hurts and is so bruised, I can't even move it. It looks like I can't help tonight! I'm so, so sorry dad."

His dad's head appeared again, but his expression still retained it's grimness. "Boy, you are about a good an actor as my pinkie finger. Now get in here and start helping."

Azalun sighed and shrugged. "Was worth a try I suppose," he said before slipping off his seat and joining his father in the kitchen.

"Here," said his father as he pointed at the chopping board covered in carrots, beetroot, potatoes and brusselsprouts. "If you fancy yourself a bladesman, see how quickly you manage to slice those up."

Azalun nodded and slid a knife from the small sheath at his hip and began cutting away.

For the next few minutes they were silent, Azalun struggling in his head to find something say to his father. To break the silence which seemed permeate through him like some sort of poison that seeped through his skin.

At first he wanted to ask the tried and true: "how was your day, dad?" But him and his father had spent most of the day together, first at the school teaching the local children. Then afterwards studying language then the history of Lycian league, during the tumultuous first decade after the War with the Dragons, so that was pointless.

"I...I managed to last three more seconds in a sparring match with Golguan, today," he blurted.

His father grunted, he seemed about as interested as a cow chewing cud.

"Yeah," said Azalun. "He even said I was 'damned quick,' nice eh?"

His dad grunted again.

Azalun frowned, he'd already sliced most of the vegetables, but was going slow on purpose, wanting to avoid the next, surely more boring, chore he was going to be given once done.

"Hurry it up with those damned vegetables," said his dad so suddenly it made Azalun jump and almost cut his finger with his knife. "We haven't got all bloody night. The chicken's already prepared. I had to wash those bloody vegetables, which you should've done. Now, hurry it."

"Y-yes dad," he said speeding up.

There was another long weighted pause, it only lasted a few seconds before Azalun broke it with a nervous laugh when another thought hit him.

"What's so funny?" said dad.

"Oh nothing," said Azalun. "It's just Caralin said something funny just before."

"Oh yeah? What did she say?"

"She said that my eyes sometimes glowed gold."

Azalun couldn't see his father, could feel the anger and tension burst from him.

"Dad? You okay?" said Azalun, looking over his shoulder, finding his father had stopped and was glaring out the window. Azalun could see his father's reflection in the glass and it was somehow grimmer than usual, so grim it seemed to make Azalun's lungs freeze.

It took what seemed an age before his father deigned to reply. "Yes, I am fine, my son. Just get back to work."

"I uhh, I've already finished, dad."

His father spun on Azalun and the young man was frozen from head to toe by his glare.

"Then bloody well hurry it up and put them in the pot!"

"Y-yes dad," said Azalun as he moved to do as told, wondering.

_What the hell was that about?_


	2. Chapter 2

Azalun couldn't sleep he just laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling. His father and he had finished making their meal, then ate in silence.

His father had then gone to bed and Azalun went outside for his usual few hours to practise his hand to hand combat. But his heart wasn't in it, so went to his room after only one hour. Soon he found himself as incapable in going to sleep as he was unable to train. He just couldn't quieten his thoughts.

Why did dad react like that? Surely it must've been Caralin seeing things? The thought of her gave him the sudden urge to get up and sneak through the night to her house. Knock on her window and ask her what she'd meant before. Any excuse to see her pretty face, again. But he quelled it.

He couldn't really have golden eyes, every time he'd seen his reflection they'd either been green or brown, depending on the lighting. Azalun sighed and rolled onto his side to stare out his window. It must've been midnight, but the hills which rapidly bounded their way to the sea seemed as silver as hours ago. A cloudless night like this was rare, it seemed to be begging him to go out and train. To take advantage of it.

It was when he was finally, finally on the verge of sleeping, he heard the whispering though his door. It caused his eyes to snap open. Then in the next split second he was hyper aware, leaped from his bed, across the room and his ear against the door.

"We have to leave," said his father's voice. "They have seen through it."

"Calm down, Seldrik," said a voice that could only belong to Golguan, its calm confidence seemed to materialise from Azalun's door. "As far as we know it's only the girl, Caralun who's noticed."

"That is the problem," said father. "What if she informs her father and he recognises it, then he informs marquess Eliwood-"

"Caleb is a bureaucrat, not a soldier. There's no way he'd know."

"I told you this would happen. But no, you just had to insist that you train him along with the others. It is dangerous. Its not just that he could be recognised, but what if-"

"The boy is a warrior, he'd be with or without my training. It's his natural..."

Golguan drifted off in his sentence, as if searching for the right word.

"It's what he was made for."

Azalun's brow furrowed, what the hell did Golguan mean by that?

_What I was made for?_

Azalun's father sighed. "I think that is all the more reason to stop training him."

"It's too late now," said Golguan and Azalun could visualize his shrug accompanying the words.

"Anyway, I have better get home, thanks for telling me this-"

"I still insist we leave, as early as tomorrow night."

"Seldrik, you're paranoid."

"You know I have to be, Golguan."

"You had to be, Seldrik. You and me, left that behind us long ago, remember?"

"Yes, I remember that."

"Well, you certainly had me fooled, old friend. Good night."

"Night."

As quickly as he was up, Azalun was then back in bed and staring up at the ceiling. His mind writhing, whirling with utter confusion.

* * *

With a yell, Tobijorn just managed to redirect his wooded practice axe just before it smashed against Azalun's skull.

Weakly, Azalun brought up his sword to block a split second too late.

"What the hell?" said Tobijorn. "You could dodge that attack real easy."

Azalun pursed his lips and shrugged.

"And you know that you can't block my attacks," said Tobijorn. "You don't have the strength or weight."

Azalun just shrugged again, his attention dropping to the muddy ground.

"Is something wrong, Azalun?" said Caralun, and Azalun turned to her. She leaned her elbows against the fence. He hadn't noticed her stop her bow training and approach. "You don't seem like your normal self."

"I'm just tired," he said, it wasn't a lie, he'd barely slept a few minutes since he had heard that strange conversation. Azalun held her his most pleading gaze, he hoped beyond hope she'd see it meant he wanted to talk to her alone.

Her green eyes just widened then she looked to the ground, blushing.

"Alright, enough of your talking," said Golguan. "Get back to your training. But sparring's finished, just practise your techniques."

Tobijorn and Caralin jumped to it, but Azalun slouched slowly and started to turn away when Golguan calling his name made him stop.

"You and I are going to have a talk after this," said the old paladin. "And keep your mind together, if this was a real fight you'd be long dead, now."

Azalun nodded and started vertically slashing downward through the air, but without much enthusiasm.

The dread of talking to Golguan made a sicking taste, swirl throughout his mouth.

* * *

Just after finishing their training, as she and Tobijorn were leaving, Azalun managed to pull aside Caralin, grabbing her slender arm with more intensity than he intended.

"Can we, can we meet later tonight?" he said. "I-I need to talk."

"Uhm okay," she said.

"Outside your door around midnight, is that alright?"

"I guess so. Is something wrong, Azalun? You're acting weird."

"I'll tell you what's wrong tonight, Caralin. That I swear."

Azalun let her go and she shrugged and pursed her lips. "See you tonight, then."

"See you, Caralin. And thank you, I know this is weird."

Golguan stepped to stand beside Azalun as they watched Tobijorn and Caralin leave. Curiously only Caralin waved goodbye.

"You overheard us talking last night," said Golguan. Azalun couldn't help flinch, taken off guard by the old paladin's forwardness. But Azalun kept his silence.

Golguan sighed. "I knew we should have talked outside. What did you hear, exactly?"

Azalun found he couldn't answer, his reply seemed lodged in his lungs.

The paladin nodded, placing his hands behind his back. "When you are able to speak, I am here. You may go home."

"Thanks," was all Azalun could say and left.

* * *

That night unlike the last was overcast, the moon seemed non existent, but Azalun's eyes had long adjusted to the darkness.

He was so tired he could barely think, every second was a war to keep his eyes open.

After what seemed an age, he arrived home and with slow, weary hands helped his father cook dinner. They did it in silence and Azalun was grateful for it. Despite his tiredness a few new thoughts waddled through his mind. He'd never bared any resemblance to his father, he was dark skinned and blond. Logically, that'd mean Azalun resembled his mother more. But he'd never met her as she'd died not long after Azalun was born.

He remembered growing up in a village in Bern, those had been happy years. Until one day, only a few years ago, his father decided they'd leave for Lycia, for a reason Azalun still didn't know.

Azalun had meant to ask about it, but found he just couldn't get the words out of his mouth. And he'd always thought that his father and Golguan had first met when they'd arrived. Azalun had only seen them together once or twice over the years. But why had Golguan referred to his father as an 'old friend?'

This realisation hadn't occurred to Azalun until then as he was still entrenched in what Golguan had meant.

What the hell was going on? Azalun was 'made to be a warrior?' Azalun had only begun training three years ago but he'd already mastered much of sword play and hand combat. In fact he had begun training in unarmed fighting by himself. It'd all seemed so natural to him, almost like breathing.

"Son," said a voice, breaking Azalun from his thoughts. "You are cutting into the chopping board, now."

"S-sorry," said Azalun as he reached for an onion.

What was going on? Why had his father reacted like that because of Caralin noticing his gold eyes? Why had he wanted to leave the village just because of that?

Azalun sighed, his heart thundering, but the confusion somehow managed to eclipse it.

* * *

After taking his sheathed, iron sword that Golguan had given him, and slipping it through his sash: Azalun slipped out in silence at near the moon's height and darted across the hills toward Caralin's house. Despite his tiredness he'd slept only about half an hour.

His heart jumped with every step, but it wasn't out of confusion or fear.

It didn't take long for him to get to her house and he waited amongst the trees, just north west.

He clenched his teeth and fought the nervous urge to pace. It seemed an age to him before he saw Caralin emerge from her house. Her gaze searching for him.

Azalun was almost hyperventilating and after fighting to gain control of his breathing, stepping out from behind his tree and giving her a wave he attempted to make as casual as possible.

She saw him, smiled and waved back with undisguised enthusiasm before beginning to jog his way.

Azalun blew out and approached.

"Hey Azalun," she said. "Is everything alright?"

She gazed into his eyes, her look seemed to scream her concern.

Azalun looked down to his feet, one which shuffled without his consent.

"C-can we take a walk, Caralin?" he said.

"Of course, Azalun," she said. "Lead on."

* * *

They continued heading north, but in silence, as Azalun struggled to find a place to start. He was so lost in thought, that he barely noticed Caralin grabbing his shoulder. She then pulled him behind a tree behind her.

"What?" he said, but when he saw the fear on her face he lowered his voice. "What's wrong?"

She just tilted her head north in reply and he couldn't help furrow his brow with his bemusement.

She tilted her head again, this time in frustrated violence and it caused Azalun to look around the tree against his back.

What he saw froze his innards and sent a shiver through his every centimetre.

About twenty metres away were three rough, ugly big brutes carrying axes, they moved with impressive stealth through the cluster of houses which made the village centre. They carried large badly maintained axes in their huge, hairy paws.

"Bandits," Azalun hissed through clenched teeth and his hand placed itself on his sword.

"W-what do we do?" said Caralin and Azalun turned to her, meeting her wide fearful eyes.

"We need to get to Golguan's house," said Azalun. "He'll be able to organise a resistance."

"But what about those bandits?" said Caralin. "They might kill those people in those houses while we run for assistance."

Azalun flinched, she was right and the iciness inside him increased tenfold. But he fought away his fear. "You go get Golguan, I will distract them until you and he can get back."

"But-"

"Please, do not argue, Caralin," said Azalun. "You must go."

"But I could-"

"Damn it, Caralin. You didn't bring your bow and quiver, okay?"

It was Caralin's turn to flinch.

"Oh."

"Go, go now."

Tears shone in her amazing eyes. "Just...just don't get killed, okay?"

Azalun tried for his most confident smile. "I won't...If you hurry."

She smiled and suddenly leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Good luck," she said and started south, Azalun wasn't able to reply due to blushing too hard.

He shook himself back into sanity and felt an onrush of confidence stronger than ever before.

As silent as able, Azalun drew his sword.


	3. Chapter 3

Azalun watched the brigands while he knelt in the bushes, his heart pumping through him from the tips of his toes to the tips of his fingers. He fought for every breath with lungs which seemed made if lead. He had been training, honing his skills to one day fight a proper fight for countless hours over the years but now here he was hesitating.

No, he realised this right away, he wasn’t hesitating, but waiting waiting for one of them to split up from the others so he could take him down. Azalun hadn’t consciously made that decision, but instinctively. He knew he could take out one by himself, not just because the sword had an advantage over the axe but his skill and agility far exceeded all the brutes combined.

But all three at once? Very unlikely.

They were scouts, of that Azalun had no doubt, which meant there would be more coming soon. Hopefully not too many more.

It was actually quite remarkable how disciplined the brigands were, their gazes swept across every inch around them and into window after window and they never spoke.

They were slowly splitting up and one was going to the south, closer toward where Azalun hid. The brute would only be about ten metres away. Soon he would be hidden from the view of his comrades by a house which was typical for those of the village, two storied and rectangular shaped. With orange tiles on the triangular roof and glass windows. And by then well within striking range of Azalun’s blade.

A sudden burst of fire burst into Azalun’s chest, Golguan would be so proud! He would be even more proud if Azalun managed to take down all three single handedly.

He felt a smile spread, and he had to fight the sudden wave of impatience. Would he be able to take them down before Caralin returned with reinforcements? By the gods he hoped not.

So he waited and waited as the annoyingly cautious and slow brigand came closer and closer.

Azalun watched for what seemed like hours, but could have only been a few minutes before the brigand was walking past before he stopped to look through window exactly adjacent to Azalun only about three metres away.

When he began to turn away, Azalun’s instinct sent his body out of the bush and sprinting in silence for the brigand. Azalun had only one chance.

Time seemed to slow for Azalun, his pumping legs ached along with every thundering heart beat. To Azalun it seemed like five minutes before he’d even made it half way across the distance. But that couldn’t have been true as the brigand was still turning.

The brigand managed to catch Azalun in the corner of his eye, his mouth began to open, revealing his brown, rotten mostly missing teeth and started to raise his axe.

But it was too late, far too late as Azalun’s iron sword was slashing, then slicing open the brigand’s throat. Whatever the bandit was about to say or shout died into a wet gurgle as blood flooded down his neck and fell down his front, soaking his clothes.

He dropped his axe and with all of his remaining, bleeding away life- tried to stop his throat from spewing out his blood with desperate fingers. It was pointless, like trying to prevent the wind from blowing with a little leaf and the bandit fell to his knees then his face hit the grass. The blood expanding rapidly beneath him.

Azalun finally exhaled, but his breathes were to short and sharp and he stepped back. His muscles felt like they were made of wood.

 _I had just killed a man. I had just killed a man!_ His mind screamed, his vision whirled and he had to fight to keep his feet. That was easy, surprisingly easy, so easy it... He shook himself back into sanity and fell into a crouch again. He needed to keep his head, people were depending on him. The whole town was depending on him.

One down, two to go.

* * *

  
Still crouched he turned back and began to the east as fast as he could, he turned the corner and moved to lean against the wall near the northern corner. He gazed around to see the broad back of the bandit while he was sneaking away. There was one more window at the end of the building and the bandit was nearing it.

Azalun knew his time was nigh and he launched into a sprint. He drew his knife from the sheath on his sash and burst into a bound which took him past the bandit- on the way he plunged the knife through the side of the brigand’s throat. Azalun landed into a kneel and the gurgling of the dying man behind him filled his ears.

The second was easier, much easier his breaths were still short and sharp, but his body felt light, nimble. He turned to find the brigand was clutching at the knife in a vain attempt to tear it out. Azalun launched into a jumping side-kick which sent the man off his feet and smashing onto his back. Azalun went to retrieve his knife from the spasming dying form but a sudden urge made him stop and turn. Turn just in time to aside the axe hurtling for his skull and it stuck fast into the wall.

The last bandit towered over him a few metres away, drawing another hand axe from a pouch in his back. He threw it and Azalun dodged it by bursting into a sprint, toward the bandit.

The brigand drew another axe and made to throw it, but seemed to realise Azalun was almost on him, so swung it a brutal downward bash instead.

Azalun’s sparring against Tobijorn hadd made him more than familiar with the techniques of the axe and the brutal strength darted aside of the arc. Then Azalun sliced his sword through the large brigand’s ribs as he slid around and behind the brigand. The brigand cried out and blood flung from the gash through his torso. Azalun spun then stabbed the brigand through the heart, causing the cries to die away. Then Azalun kicked the bandit off the blade, throwing the flailing form smashing onto his face.

Fighting the urge to smile Azalun then once again went to retrieve his knife, to suddenly find the blade of another held at his throat.

'Hello there, young man,’ said a smooth voice in his ear. 'That was well done, well done indeed.’

'A-are you going to kill me?’ said Azalun.

'Oh no, no. If I was going to kill you, you would already be dead, young one,’ said the man. 'I see Golguan has taught you well. How is the old man, anyway? Grumpy as always?’

'I...I suppose.’

The voice sighed. 'I would have warned him of the attack if that cute little archer wasn’t on her way to, would’ve been great to catch up, it’s been along time, indeed. I was supposed to scout this village out by myself, but it seems my employer didn’t trust me so sent his brutes in too. That was wise, surprisingly wise for a mere leader of bandits. They are lying waiting around three kilometres north-east of here, outside of a cave.’

Azalun furrowed his brow, unsure what to make of this strange, talkative man.

'It was impressive you killed those bandits all by yourself, young man,’ said the man. 'But it would have been wiser to let them complete their scouting as they would have returned to tell the rest that the village was unguarded so when they attacked they would be easier to ambush. There are ten of them, by the way, now you have killed three of them. Tell me, young man: Have you ever killed before?’

'No...I haven’t. So if you aren’t going to kill me can you lower the knife, please?’

There was a pause, but the voice didn’t lower the knife. 'Really? You seem to kill like a killer-born.’

Before Azalun could reply the sound of galloping hooves grew from the south, announcing Golguan’s approach.

'Well, as much as I have enjoyed our rather stellar conversation, young man. I really must go. Say hello to Golguan and Seldrik for me, please.’

Then the knife was gone and Azalun spun, sword raised, but found nothing.

Almost as if there had been no one there at all.


End file.
